Ancient Effect: A series of shorts
by juggernaut715
Summary: For the sake of publicity this story is posted in the regular Mass Effect category, as the sum total of other DOTA 2 and Mass Effect crossovers is an astounding zero. I wanted to fuse the two universes into a cohesive storyline for some time, but I found it improbable-too many variables to account for. There is a plot, just a very loosely defined one.
1. Chapter 1

Harbinger loomed. The Dark Space was a void unending, the galaxy beneath the congregation so far, far away. He was unsure of why he was awake, as no signal had come from Sovereign, the Vanguard, but for the moment his ancient systems rumbled with active power. His red gaze tilted over the cosmos spanned out in front of him, his limbs curling lightly with great potential.

He saw, with a narrowing set of lenses, a distortion. One of the great arms of the galaxy warped for a moment in a shimmer of chaotic energy, and then returned to normal, but with anomalies. Harbinger felt more of his systems come online, his frame beginning to glow with energy and the blue lines up his carapace igniting with a flash. He thrummed his vocalization protocols, and the nearby members of the congregation roused from their sleep. Within fractions of a second the entire force of the reapers, several million strong, focused upon the phenomena.

Vision switched to the Great Oculus, a device they had created for far distant viewing into the galaxy beneath, as even their great red eyes could not observe such a distance. The ultimate camera flickered to life, and zoomed in, and in, and in. Worlds that had been vacant were now filled. Systems that had no traffic were now bustling. Strange and illogical happenings were occurring—gravity wells in weird places, new races that had never been documented before, and…conflict. The entire arm of the galaxy was lit up in an unending firefight. Several cycles passed as the reapers bore witness, simply observing the galactic scale battle.

It was disturbing to see such power in the hands of those that were not they. Planets were torn asunder with eldritch power. Literal gods walked between the stars, using unfathomable abilities to combat their equals in eternal struggle. And at opposite ends of the arm, with one at the far tip and the other close to the black hole in the center of the galaxy, were two…intelligences. They were so powerful that the reapers could sense them even from dark space. So powerful that the observation went both ways. Harbinger knew exactly what the sensation of a greater mind pressing down on another's felt like—he did it quite often.

He did not like the sensation of it happening to him. He glanced in all directions, to his comrades. While his mind was the greatest of them, and utterly impenetrable to the weight of the two intelligences, several of the others seemed to crack under the strain, their carapace literally breaking under the strain of trying to keep their minds' their own. He eliminated those too weak with a sweep of his molten beam, and let the rest fight their own struggle. It was an insult to his existence that such a thing could happen.

Yet, they waited. The conflict was limited to the arm itself, and the intelligences relieved their pressure after several cycles. For some reason, all relays had been deleted within that expanse of space, and it did not appear that any of those within were interested in exiting. Harbinger sent the call for Sovereign to monitor the arm, and sent a contingent of reapers to observe from a closer distance, and went back to sleep. It was a set of unforeseen variables. Too many things had happened at once, and further analysis was required before deciding the date of the next harvest.

Deep in its core, the synthetic lifeform shuddered, as it fell to the dream it usually resided in. Would its forces even be able to harvest those involved in the war?

It felt a sliver of doubt, but cast it aside for pride.


	2. Chapter 2

The Leviathan felt it happen, the fabric of the universe rending.

They felt the moment when ownership of the seas shifted.

They heard the name, whispered through the underwater waves, echoing through the cosmos even above the surface, between the arms of the galaxy.

Maelrawn was here, and it was in control.


	3. Chapter 3

Thaddeus could feel a massive headache building behind his eyes. It made his vision quake in time with his heartbeat, and for the fourth time in the past five minutes he wished he could just go home and take a nap for the rest of his life. He tapped the microphone on his podium, and coughed.

"Tenth on the list—Oglodi. Please send your representative to the Council chambers for your race's discussion of history, trade agreements, and alliances."

The room was jam packed. At least a hundred people were stuffed into it, but that only counted for a small fraction of the overall population present that filed out of the room and into the hallway, and then other conjoined rooms—each race had at least three or four people present, leaving the total amount at over three and nearing four hundred. A scant two hours earlier Thaddeus had given passage to an assembly of identical mammalian creatures that called themselves the Geomancers. All of them were named Meepo. He couldn't tell any of them apart, and doubted the Council could either.

Several bulky individuals shouldered their way through the room, a sum total of four. One was bigger than the rest, with bulging muscles and red skin, clad in a black suit that did nothing to hide his godly physique, with a (probably) ceremonial axe strapped on his back. The second was pinked skin and clad in blue robes, nowhere near as humongous muscled, and walked with a limp. Oddly though, he had a hammer strapped to his hip, and strange pair of shoulder pads that _arced lightning between them._ Behind them was a man even stranger, with beige coloration and hunched in a dark cloak. One hand, looking more like a set of claws, hefted a heavy lantern, and the other steadied itself with a great staff with what looked suspiciously like a severed hand on the end. The fourth was the strangest of all of them, though. It crawled along the ground, completely naked except for a loincloth, with deformed features that would be seen more on a corpse than anything living. Its jaws hung open and revealed far too many teeth, but its eyes were also wide and intelligent.

He coughed again when they reached him.

"Through there." He pointed.

"Axe thanks you!" The red one decreed.

"R-Right."

He was not paid enough for this.


	4. Chapter 4

Secretary Lutz's footsteps sounded like miniature atom bombs as she _click-clacked_ out of the room with the Ambassadors of the Flayed Ones (all of which had canine like traits and strange masks) trailing behind her. Valern took the moment to pop another stim into a vein in his neck—the only thing keeping him awake after a solid six hours of introductory discussion. None of the newcomers were willing to wait any longer than necessary to meet the Big Three, so the three councilors were faced with marathon-level diplomacy. It was running them ragged.

"First the Oglodi wanted an entire sector to themselves, then the Flayed Ones demand tribute in blood..." Sparatus kneaded his bony brow. "This is comical."

"Yesterday, Citadel Council highest authority in known galaxy." Valern mused, glancing over at Tevos, who returned his academic stare with a grim glare. "Yesterday."

By the time that Lutz returned to their chambers and opened the door, all three of them had schooled their features into the crisp perfection they were expected to maintain. Sparatus had no evidence of lethargy on his face, with his back straight as a board and hands royally clasped in front of him. He showed no surprise at the singular new arrival, but he was. Not a single one of the other representatives had been alone, having at least a small contingent for security, or members of different parties or organizations. Tevos looked on as the stranger entered, every bit the caring, motherly matron she wasn't, and smiled gently at the newcomer. Valern was, for a salarian, calm—meaning he wasn't tittering under his breath about every single thing he noticed about the new arrival.

"Presenting the Rogue Knight, leader of the Pallid Meranth and the Vigil Knights: Sven."

The secretary bowed out, and took her place against the wall, next to an STG agent disguised as a cleaner. He appeared to be manipulating a cleaning droid with his omnitool, but his eyes glanced over at the newcomer every few seconds, and the app on the screen actually had more to do with explosives than repair. Across the room stood a group of Asari in recognizable white uniforms—Commandos, straight from Thessia, the second best squad, as the first was busy with a shadow war in the Terminus. In front of the council's platform, standing with back rigid and arms crossed, white-faced and fearsome, towered a member of the Turian Cabal. His body teemed with latent biotic energy, and it would be he who made to defend the council first, whether by taking a bullet or taking a pre-emptive shot with the modified Claymore attached to his hip.

The "Rogue Knight" was taller than the Cabal, and then some. His helm, which revealed only glowing blue eyes, was actually slightly higher than Sparatus', and the turian was over six feet and standing on a several foot platform. Archaic, ancient looking armor covered the man, with epaulets angled to deflect either bullets or strikes. It was evident that energy was coursing through the armor—blue lines fizzled up and down it, humming with power. On his back was a sword as tall as he was, and from the sheer size of his bulk it was likely he could use it to devastating effect—not a single person present assumed for a moment that the weapon was ceremonial.

"Greetings." The knight spoke, in a harsh and heavily accented tongue.


	5. Chapter 5

"Human." The blue-skinned woman stated, looking him up and down with curious but conniving eyes. "Are you an attractive specimen of your race?"

"I suppose so." Michael replied, after a moment's hesitation. The woman leaned towards him and brought her chin to rest on interlaced fingers.

"Do you know who I am?"

Michael shook his head.

"No, but I can assume you're in charge, if the retinue is anything to go by." His eyes glanced away from hers to the ten guards around her, all of which were in heavy armor and carried very large guns. One of them snarled. The woman turned her glare on the man, and he instantly quieted. She sighed, and rubbed her forehead as she turned back to Michael.

"You are the first human I have ever seen in person. I have heard from my agents on the Citadel that your kind is practically everywhere but the Terminus, and now you've come here as well, to _my_ domain. Tell me: what is your purpose for being here, on Omega?"

"Trade." Michael instantly replied. "I am a Shopkeeper."


	6. Chapter 6

Krogan were strong. They knew that. Even before their uplifting, they knew they were the toughest race for lightyears. Natural redundancies, regenerating tissues, hardy bodies that didn't know when to quit, and a last resort bloodrage that would, if they couldn't preserve their own life, take their opponents'.

When Wrex sat down at the bar next to one of the newcomer races, he had still thought much the same.

"So, what are you supposed to be?" He asked, eyeing the stranger with curiosity.

The ball of blue energy pinged in response, elevating slightly, but said nothing else. The drink in front of it was completely untouched, but glowed with eldritch energy as the liquid within slowly drained into nothingness. The bartender, who stood several feet away, laughed at the sound as if it was the funniest thing he'd heard in his entire life, and then began to weep.

Wrex blinked, then stepped away from the bar, wondering about his life choices. Then, he remembered he had someone to kill.


	7. Chapter 7

"So, what do you think of the Commander?" Joker asked, when the person of interest had finally floated out of the room.

"Talking behind someone's back is not something I like doing, Flight Lieutenant." Kaidan stated, focused on the blurry monitor in front of him. "I'd very much prefer to just get this thing working." He slapped the side of it, and the screen fixed itself for a moment before getting much worse. He groaned in frustration, and yanked on the panel beneath it, his eyes bulging out of their sockets when he saw the mess of wire within.

Joker ignored Kaidan's disinterest. "Aren't you a bit weirded out by her, though? I mean, during the war it was her race that—"

"Joker, I don't care what her race did during the war. Right now, she's our Commander, so she deserves our respect." He was supposed to cut the red wire, right? Er, no-green.

"Isn't it funny, though?" Joker persisted. "How she's always been called—"

"—Spectre." Anderson finished. "If you perform admirably on this mission and the next several, you'll become one, with all of the privileges that entails. While I would prefer the first Defense race to have a Spectre to be human…well, it's not up to me."

Mercurial glanced between the two men before her, one human and one turian, and blinked her glowing blue eyes.

 _"How came I here?"_

The two men glanced between each other, both confused by the language not translating, and Nihilus opened his mouth to respond when a faint explosion shook the ship. The Captain checked his omnitool, and sighed.

"I'm going to go check on our pilot." Anderson said, looking more interested in jumping out the airlock than doing so.


	8. Chapter 8

Eden Prime did not go as planned. It was supposed to be a simple stop and shop, just picking up a Prothean Beacon and shoving it in the cargo hold before hightailing it back to the Citadel for processing and customs. The Geth, it seemed, had other plans in mind. Nihilus was not used to shooting bipedal metal constructs instead of squishy flesh and bone things, but aside from the ones that jumped off the walls and trees he found them just as easy to destroy as their organic counterparts. Their weaponry was far superior to his own, though, if the searing pain in his calf was anything to go by—the shot had gone straight through the shielding and the armor, exiting cleanly out the back. It was non-crippling, thankfully, and he didn't have to sit and wait to hear Anderson cramming the old "This is why solo missions are retarded" lecture down his throat.

It surprised him when he saw a familiar face.

"Saren? What in blazes are you doing here?"

The other turian smiled, the cybernetic implants—which hadn't been there the last time they had spoken—making his face look more robotic than avian.

"They called in reinforcements once they heard of the commotion on the surface. I was nearby, taking care of another mission for the council. You know how it is." He shrugged, and then frowned. "Are you wounded?" He pointed down, and Nihilus followed the point with his eyes, hissing out of his teeth—he hadn't actually _looked_ at the wound, and it didn't look good.

"Those bots are accurate. I was surprised—" He looked up and cut off, unable to speak at the sight of the barrel of a gun pointed at his face. Saren looked stoic, but his lips were quirked downward.

"Oh, Nihilus. I wish it weren't so."

"Sa-" He cut himself off and ducked the first shot—an over-exaggeration if there ever was one, as the mass-accelerated projectile tore a path down his fringe down to the bone—and then charged forward, knocking Saren off his feet, slamming him to the ground with a grunt. When he leaned back to start pummeling the man to death—he was long past the point of reasoning, even if this man had once been his mentor—he had to dodge to the side to avoid another bullet, and he failed. It went straight through his armor and passed by his ribs. He wheezed a breath—more of a cough—and finally landed a punch directly on Saren's chin, with enough adrenaline-fueled force to tear it clean off.

"Why?" Nihilus gasped, failing to breathe and also failing to understand that it was unlikely Saren would be able to reply without a lower jaw. Why was it so hard to breath? Saren ignored his question and threw him off with a wave of biotic energy that ended with him in a heap on the other side of their little arena. The older turian got to his feet and then swung an arm down to grab his jaw, slapping it back into place like changing his socks. It didn't work, and it fell to the ground again. He sighed, and flicked a switch on the side of his neck.

"You see, Nihilus," he spoke, his voice coming out of the speakers of his omnitool, "I don't work for the council any longer. I work for the Reapers. I had assumed you would not join me, and I won't even bother asking now, as I am now sure of it."

"Damn right." The other turian groaned, trying to push himself off the ground and succeeding. He stood, leaning back as if he'd fall over, and struggled for air. He was quite sure that he had punctured a lung, but that wasn't as lethal for turians as it was for their asari or human counterparts. "If you think I'm just going to lie here and die, you're wrong." He raised his hands in a shaky combat stance, and shook his head to try and get some of the blood out of his eyes.

"I would expect no less." Saren cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, tossed his gun away and strode forward with intent. "At one point in time I was your mentor. Just because you're a Spectre now doesn't put us on nearly the same _level."_ He accentuated his final word with a sickening crunch of his cybernetic hand into Nihilus's stomach, whose guard did absolutely nothing to stop the impact. The force was enough to send him sprawling once more, but he ended his roll with a flick of his wrist, activating his omnitool.

"Anderson, Saren is here, he's betrayed the council, he's working with the— _ghack—"_ The word never escaped his esophagus. Saren had crushed it under his boot.

"Too little too late." The standing turian said, bending to meet Nihilus's eyes, which were still defiant. "Your tenacity is admirable, but this is where you will die." He frowned then, at the expression on Nihilus face. "Why do you smile?"

Nihilus smacked his leg with the arm holding the omnitool, and Saren ripped it off, ignoring the subsequent wriggling of the now mute turian. He examined the device, clicking through application after application with electronic efficiency, and his eyes narrowed.

"You were recording me from the start-since you touched down on the planet's surface." He dropped the arm on the body and walked away. "This changes nothing. The plan will proceed, albeit at a faster pace." Whatever words Saren continued to mutter as he increased the distance between them Nihilus didn't hear, as everything started to fade to black.

No air.


End file.
